Will Never Want
by vehlr
Summary: The words fly straight over his head, circling around before slamming into his face. Post-game two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: An old piece I never got around to putting up.

* * *

_She is laughing and cheering when he walks into the royal chambers. It is their first return to Denerim's most respected healer and advisor to the queen, but Wynne greets him with a smile that feels like he has never been away. Beside her, Oghren already looks like he has been drinking, but it was difficult to tell, reasons Alistair. The dwarf looked perpetually drunk. Grinning back, he casts his gaze on the curious cheer that had erupted in his beloved.  
"What's the occasion?" She turns on him, tears in her eyes but a broad smile plastered across her face. He is struck by the fact that she is out of armour for the first time in a while, choosing instead a loose tunic and tight trousers.  
"Oh, Alistair, it's brilliant.. we're going to be parents!" The words fly straight over his head, circling around before slamming into his face. His smile is suddenly replaced by a strange blankness.  
"Well that's.. wait.. w-what?" She takes his hand and holds it to her stomach.  
"In here is a little child, just waiting to come and say hello." She smiles up at him, and he stares at where his hand is now placed. A child.. a child of his own.. he never even dreamed..  
"O-oh.. that's.. that's.. wow.." Very much speechless for the first time since they defeated the archdemon, he kneels before her, almost in pious prayer at the life that sleeps within her. "A child.."  
"I've never even wanted a child," she babbles. "Life in the Alienage.. well, it wasn't great, and I never even thought that bringing a new life into it was an option, it just wasn't fair. But with you.. with you it's different." He looks up at her, a tear escaping down his cheek, and he suddenly stands and sweeps her into a tight embrace, grinning into her hair.  
"Our child will never want for anything," he promises, kissing her neck. She laughs, a real burst of joy, and he spins her around, finally grinning. Wynne is smiling in the corner, and Oghren is cackling beside her, proposing a toast to all that is great and wonderful._

He remembers that moment now. Things could be the same, but for Wynne's face marked with sorrow, and Oghren's white knuckles wrapped around her hands. Looking down at the mess of red hair and pale skin and tears in his arms, he cannot help but be struck by just how unfair the whole situation ended up being. They knew it would be difficult, a child of the Taint, but if they had known..  
The red blotch of flesh lies on the sheets, malformed and bloody and black. Once a source of joy in their hectic lives, the thing now represents every disappointment that will ever plague them. He wants to curse it, the leech, the demon within that almost drained his beloved dry, but.. but it is still a part of him, and of her, and he cannot hate it just yet. Drawing her closer, he kisses her crown and lifts her off the bed, taking her away from the mistake that almost killed her.  
Tears finally come, then, silently running down his face for the loss of sons never given a chance, for daughters never to be spoiled. For the end of the dream of a normal life inbetween the obligations of the Grey Wardens. Oghren had told him not to hope for too much.  
And all the while, the silence is only ever broken by the agonising sobs that wrack her frail form.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: The second part, because it was never really finished.

* * *

There is, inevitably, a next time. No joy, however, can be found in the news. Wynne never explicitly offers, but the chance to be rid of the child before it has even begun is there. He leaves that decision to her, of course. She is silent today – not terribly unusual anymore, sadly. He wonders what she will do.  
It is a surprise, then, when she stirs suddenly.  
"No. We have to try." He looks at her, seeing a spark of hope in her eyes. It is almost as if she is back. Almost. Oghren gently claps a hand on her back, and Wynne smiles again, the first smile since the pair walked through her door today. His fingers tighten around hers, but he smiles at her inquisitive gaze. She is strong, far stronger than he thinks he is, but he would not let her carry him through the pain last time and he will not give her a chance to this time.  
He takes his leave, and his heart feels wrenched, squeezed by impossible tiny hands. _He does not dare to hope for anything_, he thinks as he wanders back to the Warden headquarters. He cannot allow himself that luxury.

Throwing up blood was a bad thing. He steels himself for more bad news, very aware of every possible change in their situation. He knows she is acutely aware that it was around this time last time that she almost died – even in his head he cannot bring himself to say that they lost something, will not let himself acknowledge that there was a life there to lose – and he is on the edge of his seat as Wynne performs tests and scurries around unhurriedly. In the corner, Oghren maintains a tight grip on his axe – he has been dragged out of bed with a hangover, but Alistair appreciates that he would want to be here. Finally, Wynne turns on them.  
"I don't know," she sighs. "The best guess I can make is that the child is rejecting the blood, somehow, through you. But even that is just a guess." She folds her arms. "Wait and see."  
Three words that they have come to live by, it seems. He pulls her close as she cradles the small bump emerging from her stomach, whispering to her softly. She has grown optimistic lately, and he would hate to see her crushed again.

He is so very afraid. At the best of times, today would have been stressful, but his only concern right now is that she lives – all he wants, all he can dare to hope for, is her continued life. Her guttural screams through the wall are terrifying, and he stands up every minute, only to be dragged back onto his seat by Oghren, who has been charged with making sure that Alistair does not get in the way.  
"How can you just sit there?!" he demands of the dwarf. Oghren raises an eyebrow, and Alistair looks away. He knows that the dwarf has sat outside many births now, being Wynne's trusted assistant and dear friend. "Sorry.. I just.."  
"I know," grunts the dwarf, staring at the wall opposite. The screams have subsided into sobs, but Alistair is still kept firmly in his seat by Oghren.  
Finally, the door opens, and he all but runs into the room. His love is exhausted but alive, and he crosses the room in three strides to hold her close as she cries. Behind him, Wynne clears her throat.  
"Alistair, come here and say hello." He turns his head, and registers the bundle in the mage's arms. Standing up slowly, he glances down at his love – she smiles through sweat-soaked locks of hair, eyes damp but shining.  
"You mean.. but.."  
"Oh, shut up and go and see him!" she chokes, wiping her face. The word hits him like a rock.  
"Him?" He walks over to Wynne, shell-shocked that the life that stirs in her arms, red and blotchy and covered in Maker-only-knows what but _so very alive_, is their son. Oghren moves his arms into a position better suited for holding children, and Wynne lays the newborn into the arms of his father. "A _son_.." he whispers, finally smiling. Hope beyond all hopes that he dared think have finally borne fruit, and as he sits on the edge of the bed, grinning like a fool at his boy, tears streaming down his face, he thinks that there must be a Maker after all, and that He has finally returned to them.


End file.
